


favor

by antinomian



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Casual Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, of course i let myself write smut and it's immediately fucked up, probably not for actual thommy fans, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25800175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antinomian/pseuds/antinomian
Summary: "What time is it?"Thomas's heart sank even as he looked theatrically at the gigantic clock and replied, "how should I know?"Jimmy's laugh was genuine, but it didn't make Thomas feel any better. He glanced at it and assessed, "we've got, what, fifteen minutes before Carson sends someone after us?"
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	favor

**Author's Note:**

> if you actually legitimately ship thommy you will probably not like this because i don't and i think it shows :/ jimmy is decidedly straight in this and it's kind of gross

In the labyrinthine attics of Downton, Thomas was putting away a grandfather clock. It was a beautiful piece, and though he had spent hours repairing it after it had broken the week prior, her Ladyship had decided that she liked the one they had temporarily replaced it with better, and ordered it to be put away.   
He very carefully lowered his end until the carved wooden feet met the floor with a heavy sound. Jimmy, at the top end, slowly pushed his side forward until the it was standing on its own, and then stepped back.  
"Heavy piece of shit," Jimmy grunted, still trying to catch his breath.  
Thomas tried not to glare at him. "It's a complex machine," he said, reproachful, and knew immediately it was a mistake when Jimmy rolled his eyes.  
"Yeah, yeah, 'clocks are people' or whatever." Jimmy seemed to hold back a snort, which was worse than if he'd done it outright because it felt like he was making an effort to spare Thomas's feelings, which he knew he was not. "What time is it?"  
Thomas's heart sank even as he looked theatrically at the gigantic clock and replied, "how should I know?"  
Jimmy's laugh was genuine, but it didn't make Thomas feel any better. He glanced at it and assessed, "we've got, what fifteen minutes before Carson sends someone after us?"  
Thomas hummed noncommittally. Jimmy was right, but he didn't want to encourage him in this. His heart, sinking before, had settled in the pit of his stomach and become a festering knot of dread, as was becoming par for the course.  
"Lady Rose's new dress is pretty racy, don't you think? I'm surprised she was allowed to wear it to dinner at all."   
Thomas does not look at him, but his voice is steady when he replies, "I think they've accepted that she does what she wants, at this point." Like Sybil, he doesn't say and tries not to think, because she doesn't deserve to be anywhere near this. This isn't real. This is acting, a parody of a conversation to try and pretty up exactly what this is, when they both know exactly what's happening but don't want to give it power by a proper name.  
"I'm getting hard again just thinking about it," says Jimmy, like it's the most normal regular ordinary plain thing in the world, like he's reading the weather from the paper aloud because he's been asked to.  
"What do you mean, again?" says Thomas, a shadow of banter in his voice to server as a thread from which to suspend the disbelief of a nonexistent audience, but Jimmy is already starting to wrestle with his trousers.  
"What I said," Jimmy says absently. "Help a bloke out, won't you?"  
He never says it outright. It is too ugly to look at directly so they cover it in vague words and pretend it is not what is happening, but Thomas knows his part. It is probably easier for Jimmy to pretend, but the facts of their "friendship" stand: all day Thomas gives to Jimmy his ears and his thoughts, and at night he gets on his knees and gives him his mouth, too. Jimmy expects this because he knows that Thomas loves him and would do anything for him, and it makes Thomas furious because he is right. For how much he has grown to dread this, for how one-sided and ugly this whole thing is, he still loves Jimmy, still wants him and thinks of him and touches himself to the thought of him, and Jimmy knows and it makes it so much worse. Jimmy's knowledge of how he is is both the carrot and the stick, and he is so fucking sick of it. If he could have only a moment by himself to breath and think about how much he hates Jimmy, maybe he could stop loving him and stop having to do this.  
As it stands, Thomas says, "sure," and gets on his knees.  
"I'll be quick," asserts Jimmy, and it's the last thing he says for a while, only breathing heavily. He has his hands on Thomas's head, holding him in place while he fucks his mouth, and Thomas does his best to stay still and not choke and not drool too much and not touch Jimmy's legs and not palm himself though his trousers because despite everything this still gets him half hard, or any of the other things Jimmy doesn't like because they make him think about what he is doing.  
Jimmy, to his credit, comes in record time, and Thomas swallows it without thinking about it. As Jimmy steps away to fasten himself back up, not looking at Thomas, Thomas clears his throat, stands, and takes out his handkerchief to wipe his mouth and chin. With the tip of his shoe he scuffs at the small puddle of wet on the floor before deciding that it will probably dry up on its own long before anyone had reason to wonder where it came from.   
"That was quick," he says, and the roughness of his voice swallows his other question, the one he can't ask: could it always be that quick?  
Jimmy almost seems to hear him anyway. "You know you love it," he replies with an obnoxious glance at the bulge in Thomas's trousers, before he turns to go, and in that moment Thomas has never hated him more.

**Author's Note:**

> written late at night and published immediately after so that my embarrassment glands do not have a chance to wake up and stop me  
> first time writing smut but obviously that's not really the point here
> 
> edit: ai yai yai it ate my italics :( will try to come back and fix later sorry


End file.
